


Every Waking Hour

by thundercaya



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Workplace Warzone compliant, sleep problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: It was ironic that his shirt said R.E.M. when that was exactly what he needed and also what he wasn’t getting.





	Every Waking Hour

The rumble of the AC kicking in again caused James Madison to let out a groan. That was the third time since he’d gone to bed. He must have been lying there awake for hours, but he refused to look at the time. He turned over under the covers, his sleep clothes riding up a bit at the movement. It was ironic that his shirt said R.E.M. when that was exactly what he needed and also what he wasn’t getting. Sleep had never been a friend to Madison, and that didn’t appear to be changing any time soon. He had some good nights, sure, mostly when he could be lulled by the warmth of one Thomas Jefferson in bed next to him, but the man wasn’t there tonight.

That was Madison’s fault.

If he called Jefferson, the man would be there in an instant, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t disturb Jefferson’s sleep for anything less than an emergency, especially since the man had asked to stay over and Madison had told him not tonight.

He needed space sometimes. That was true. but he seemed to be getting worse at predicting when would be a good time to get it. More and more he found himself missing Jefferson when he was supposed to be recharging. Maybe he was just becoming overly reliant on the man. Maybe what he needed was _more_ space.

Or maybe he was just get used to Jefferson being there. Maybe that was okay. 

Madison scooted over onto Jefferson’s side of the bed, wishing the spot wasn’t so cold in the man’s absence. He didn’t like using Jefferson’s pillow--the silk that protected his hair being smooth but not very cozy--but it smelled like Jefferson’s hair products, and that was better than nothing.

Madison slipped an arm under the pillow to prop himself up and get more comfortable, but his hand hit a wad of fabric. Heart racing he pulled it out. Jefferson’s tank top. Madison brought it to his face. It smelled like body wash and French cologne and a bit like sweat. Not the musty old sweat of being unclean, but the sweat from being active. Madison could remember quite clearly that Jefferson had been wearing this shirt the last time they were active together.

Falling asleep with the shirt covering his face was not an option because Madison was pretty sure he’d suffocate that way. Instead he folded it up and laid it across his eyes like a blindfold. It was still close enough to his nose for him to smell it, close enough to soothe him. Not a miracle cure, but something to make him feel a little less alone while he was still awake. A nice memory to ease his mind. A few nice scents to please at least one of his senses, even though the man he was missing was a full sensory experience. Thick, springy hair, warmth, and smooth skin in the places where his body hair was light. Sculpted limbs, the liveliest eyes and most artfully carved jawline in existence. A rich laugh that could pitch up endearingly high with the right provocation, and a mellow speaking tone. And the taste of him--that was something Madison couldn’t even begin to describe.

The sound of his alarm startled Madison awake. While it was, as always, an unwelcome event, at least his reaction to it assured him that he had in fact fallen asleep at some point. Madison grabbed his phone to silence it, then after a moment’s consideration he opened his messenger.

 _Ugh._ he typed into his conversation with Jefferson. _No sleep._

He got a response right away. Of course Jefferson was awake by now.

 _Sorry hon._ it read, followed by a sad face. Then: _Nap in my office at lunch?_

Madison smiled. It was a nice gesture, Jefferson’s office being furnished with an incredible couch, but if he fell asleep for thirty minutes, he wouldn’t wake back up.

 _Nap at your house after work?_ he suggested instead.

Jefferson responded with a string of affectionate emojis. _Can’t wait!_

Neither could Madison.


End file.
